


Sweet

by placentalmammal



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Face-Sitting, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: An intimate moment between Hella and Adaire.





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my drafts folder, just named "sex.doc"

Adaire’s cunt tastes like redcurrant wine. She’s tart and sweet, just a _hint_ of salinity—full bodied, complex. Her juices flow freely, running down Hella’s lips and chin and soaking into the sheets. Braced against the headboard, she rocks her hips against Hella’s eager tongue, lips parted in a moan.

In bed, she is responsive, almost showy. Hella loves this about her. Adaire is usually so composed—her hair is always tied back in a neat braid and her soft body is always hidden beneath a dozen layers of shifts and bloomers and petticoats. Her movements are careful, her words are precise. She lives her life like a gambler: cards close to her chest, voice and posture and expression deliberately devoid of meaning.

But in their private moments, she comes undone. Her voice breaks, her braid unravels, her thighs shake, and her toes curl. In the bedroom, she is honest in a way that isn’t elsewhere. And when she holds back, she holds back to prolong her pleasure, not to protect her own interests.

“Hella,” she says, her voice ragged, “oh god, Hella—”

Her words end in a whimper. She leans forward, shifting her weight, allowing Hella a brief moment of respite before she settles back down on her face. Adaire is mindless now, lost in pleasure, moaning as Hella sweeps her tongue across her plump folds. She’s close—Hella can feel it the tension humming through her body, hear it the hitch of her breath—close enough to forget herself entirely, to forget the stresses of the day. The world falls away, and for a little while, it is just the two of them and a strange, intimate sort of urgency.

Hella laps at her cunt, drinks her in. Her jaw aches and her lungs burn, but Adaire lets out another breathless whimper and begins to fuck her mouth in earnest, grinding down against her. Hella takes hold of her thick, soft thighs and holds her steady, gripping the meat of her legs while Adaire shudders and moans. Her breathy cries reverberate in Hella’s skull and send fire coursing through her veins. She clamps her legs together, trying desperately to ignore her own arousal while she eats Adaire’s pussy.

It is difficult, especially when Adaire begins to murmur praise. Sweet words drip from her lips like honey from the comb, and she reaches down with one hand to tug at Hella’s hair. Adaire’s blunt fingernails scrape against Hella’s scalp, and then she pulls hard enough to make stars bloom in front of Hella’s eyes.

“You’re so good,” she pants, chest heaving. “So good for me, Hella, Hella, _Hella_ —” Her voice catches and breaks and she comes with a wet rush, drenching Hella with her juices. Her whole body shakes with it, toes curling, fingers clenching, muscles locking and spasming. It tears through her like an earthquake, and when she’s through, she flops down bonelessly beside Hella and slings an arm across her chest.

“I love you,” she says, and she steals a kiss from Hella’s sticky mouth, tongue pressing past her lips. “I love tasting myself on you.”

Hella shivers and presses closer to her, one hand between her thighs. She’s sopping wet, curls shining with slick, and she finds her clit with no trouble at all. “Pull my hair,” she rasps, burrowing closer to Adaire. She sighs as she buries two fingers in her cunt, curling and uncurling inside herself as Adaire’s hand fists in her hair.

Adaire mouths at Hella’s jaw, sucking bruises into her dark skin. She tugs sharply at Hella’s hair, and reaches down with her free hand to pinch and twist her nipples. Hella gasps and moans, hips twitching up as she thumbs her clit. “Adaire,” she says, gasping out the syllables of her name, “Adaire, please.”

She kisses her again, smearing her own arousal across Hella’s cheeks and collarbones. She hums experimentally and tightens her grasp, and Hella cries out again. She comes quickly, messily, shivering and shaking around her fingers.

Adaire kisses her through it, one hand set firmly on Hella’s throat, just a whisper of pressure against her windpipe. “So good,” she whispers. “So good for me.”

Hella pulls her down for another kiss, and then settles back into their shared bed. “You make it easy,” she says, licking her lips. “You’re so sweet.”

Laughing, Adaire swats her with a pillow. “You’re the worst,” she says fondly, brushing one of Hella’s sweat-damp curls back off her forehead.

“You love me,” says Hella.

Adaire makes a thoughtful noise, but doesn’t contradict her. “I guess I do,” she says, after a moment of contemplation. “You have your uses.”

Hella kisses her. “I put up with your bullshit,” she says. “And I give good head.”

“You do.” Adaire lets herself be kissed, then nestles close, pulling a blanket close around their naked bodies. She yawns and presses her face into the crook of Hella’s neck and shoulder. She blinks, and her long lashes sweep across the mouth-shaped bruises dotting Hella’s brown skin.

“You’re alright,” she says, kissing Hella’s nose. “I’ll keep you around, for a while. I guess.”

“Good enough,” says Hella, and she threads her fingers through the other woman’s hair. “I’ll take what I can get.”


End file.
